Purple Teardrops
by Hemsee
Summary: Crushed by the weight of the stress that comes with being a doppelganger, the inevitable happens and Elena breaks down. Luckily Damon is there to pick up the pieces.
1. Purple Teardrops

**Summary:** Crushed by the weight of the stress that comes with being a doppelganger, the inevitable happens and Elena breaks down. Luckily Damon is there to pick up the pieces.

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**~ Purple Teardrops ~**

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Elena comes up the stairs slowly, her hand sliding up and down the bar. She's tired (_exhausted_) and the feeling of sleep is so overpowering that she literally lets out a cry of relief when she sees her bed.

She doesn't know why she's so tired – she really doesn't. And as she takes off her heels and tosses them carelessly across her room, Elena thinks it's actually kind of ironic that she's feeling so drained. Stefan had taken her out tonight to dance – it was supposed to be _fun _(weird how that word's meaning had escaped her these past few weeks) – and yet, it couldn't have been _less _fun; she had been tense throughout the night and had even asked to leave _early._

And not like ten or fifteen minutes early, but like an _hour_, hour and a _half_ early. Stefan had looked at her like she'd grown another head.

_Maybe I have_, Elena muses as she shrugs out of her jacket. Or maybe she the fun had gotten sucked out of her, and she couldn't enjoy the most basic things in a normal teenager's life – things like going out dancing with your boyfriend and your friends and just letting loose. She doesn't know when or how the old Elena – the _real _Elena, she can't help but think – disappeared completely. The one that used to make the best out of the worst situations and who took pleasure in the simplest things.

She misses that Elena.

Her purse slides to the floor as she slumps onto the bed, her shoulders sagging in defeat. God, what was _happening_ to her? This isn't her – this shadow of a being, devoid of any feelings and _joie de vivre_. She's merely the shell of the girl that she used to be - the girl with the wide brown eyes and excited smile.

Elena's eyes are burning her, and her vision's getting really blurry, but she _senses _the tear falling before it actually does.

She swipes at it angrily, but suddenly there are more tears spilling out of her eyes, an interminable rush it feels like they're going on forever and she just can't _stop _them_. _Elena looks at herself in the mirror, and the brunette with purple-streaked cheeks looking back at her isn't exactly what she expected.

God, she ruined her makeup _too_? Something like a choke – she isn't sure, it's so _muffled _– escapes her throat, and she reaches for the pillow just as a full-out sob escapes her.

Her shoulders are shaking, her fingers are trembling, and Elena suddenly thinks that she c_an't_, she just c_an't _with all this Katherine and Elijah and Klaus and doppelganger and _you're the one he wants and he'll kill anyone you care about if you stand in his way _crap. It's so much and _too _much, and she knows she's only nineteen, but God damn it, sometimes she feels like she's fucking _eighty_ and she just can't deal with all of this _now_.

"_Elena?" _

Her head whirls around so fast that an involuntary hiccup escapes her mouth and suddenly, she's staring into wide blue, blue eyes.

Damon's mouth is agape slightly, but Elena knows that that's the equivalent to a full-out gawk from all non-Damon individuals (basically _everyone _else).

"Elena?" Damon repeats, clearly destabilized if the way his blue eyes have become all kinds of light and dark are of any indication. He steps towards her cautiously, like he's afraid she'll burst (which, at the rate she's going, she probably will) but there's clearly worry traced along every plane of his painfully handsome face.

His arms come around to encircle her shoulders as he leans in front of her. She's still crying purple tears, and her vision's so blurry that she misses the way his blue eyes melt into soft concern. "Elena," he whispers. "What happened?"

_To you _is left unsaid, but it hangs hot and heavy in the air between them.

"It's just…I'm just," Elena sniffles, her resolve breaking as the full implication of being a doppelganger hits her again, and she throws her arms around Damon's neck desperately, her cries intensifying. "Damon _I can't do this anymore_. Elijah and Klaus and Katherine…I don't want to _die _but I don't want anyone to die for _me _either. God knows I'm not worth it -,"

"Hey now," he interrupts her softly, his hands coming up to cup her face tenderly. "It's _okay _to feel overwhelmed by all of this shit and feel a little hysterical, but I swear to God Elena, _never _say you aren't worth it because you _are_."

Just as she opens her mouth to protest, he presses a gentle finger on her lips. "I _know _that's not your point; I _get _your point. You think you can't do this because it's too much for you to handle, it's too much pressure and responsibility and I _really _can't agree with you more on that one." One of his fingers comes up just as another purple teardrop spills from her eyes. He catches it and flings it away, smoothing the streaks from her face slowly. He's looking at her with a mixture of adoration and admiration. "But listen to me – you're _Elena. _You _can _handle shit, you've handled everything we've thrown at you and you've come out of it always with the upper-hand. You're _incredible_ Elena," he whispers. "But you're _nineteen_ and God knows, you've handled yourself better than a thirty year old could have _ever _done."

Damon pauses to catch his breath a little, his hands and eyes roaming all over her face, worry and adoration and _love _all etched so openly on his features that it makes Elena's breathing hitch. "My point is that it's _okay _for you to break down, that it's _expected. _Because no one can come into this shit and come out of it sane without a break down or a thousand." His lips curve slightly into one of the most earnest smiles she's ever seen when she lets out a choked laugh. "But it's _not _okay for you to break down _alone._ You've got friends who'll do anything to help you and they're here for you. _I'm _here for you. Always."

"Damon," Elena whispers, and her throat's heavy all of the sudden and she feels something big and important swell up inside of her.

"You know I'll do anything for you," he murmurs, and Elena closes her eyes when she feels his mouth press against her forehead, the kiss sending a rush of warmth that she feels all the way to the tips of her toes. Her breathing shortens and becomes shallow when his lips come down to kiss her eyelashes, collecting the tears hanging there with his lips.

"Anything at all," Elena's mind becomes unnervingly blank when Damon drags his mouth down until he reaches her cheeks, pressing soft and warm kisses against each of them, his lips lingering on her feverish skin for a beat or two or _ten _longer than necessary.

Her hands are clutching his shirt tightly when she opens her eyes to stare into the deep, electric blue of Damon's. Her heart stutters for a second when she sees the purple stains on his lips, blood rushing to her cheeks as her breath catches in her throat. Slowly, she lifts trembling fingers to brush against his mouth, wiping the purple away.

Damon's eyes are dark as he watches her, his hand catching hers gently. "Elena, if you need something, _anything, _tell me, and I'll be there for you," he murmurs softly, his mouth coming up to kiss her purple-tinted fingertips. He looks into her eyes meaningfully as he brings up his hand to brush the strands of hair away from her face tenderly. "Nothing's worth your tears. _Nothing." _

Elena closes her eyes in a sigh and leans forward; she feels the air shift and something press against her lips briefly – almost like a touch (like a caress) – so quickly it feels like she's dreamed it.

But when her eyes open and land on the mirror, and she sees a small, barely visible speck of purple on the side of her mouth, she knows it wasn't a dream.

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**Author's Note: **I think this has the potential of becoming a two or a three-shot, but it will depend on the number of reviews I get for this story. So, I actually got this concept from a Lady GaGa song; _Paparazzi, _the acoustic version, to be more precise, which I have been listening to non-stop since I stumbled upon it on Youtube a few days ago (don't judge). And there's a part that goes _purple teardrops I cry it don't have a price_… and yeah, the rest is history. :D

So drop a comment on this one (and tell me if you'd like to see this expanded) and **please **don't **favorite **without reviewing!

Much love!


	2. Red Tinted Lips

**~ Chapter Two ~  
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**Red-Tinted Lips**

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"I need _what_?" Elena asks, her voice rising in disbelief, eyes wide.

Damon simply shrugs as he leans on the railing of her front porch. "You need to get out," he drawls, his blue eyes fixed on her. "I'm giving you the opportunity."

Elena feels herself blush and fights the urge to squirm under his intense gaze. She knows that all of this stems from that conversation she had with Damon; a conversation that's so deeply ingrained in her mind that she remembers it with a clarity that surprises her, even though it happened more than a week and a half ago.

_Not that I'm counting…_Elena sweeps a hand over her face, trying to cover her heated cheeks, as the memory of Damon's lips – Damon's _purple-_stained lips – so achingly close to hers flashes through her mind. "Damon – I just can't go up and leave because it's too much for me to handle. I can't leave everybody dealing with these problems – _my _problems – while I'm sitting around tanning in a beach somewhere."

Damon blinks. "We're not going to the beach."

"You're missing the point," Elena hisses, accusing him with her eyes. "And you _know _it."

Damon shrugs and his mouth curves into an irresistibly I-should-be-sorry-but-I'm-not smile that Elena can't help but adore. It lights up his eyes. "Maybe I do, but you're missing _my _point," he counters, and then his eyes darken, just barely. It's just a flicker, but Elena knows it's an indication of his seriousness. "You need a timeout – from everything. Your problems are still going to be here when you get back…" She stifles a gasp because those are the exact words he'd used against her when he'd convinced her to go to Atlanta with him.

"Five minutes," Damon says, and because he knows how much meaning the words carry for her (for them both) and how much they'd affected her in the past, he repeats them, "Just five minutes. Think about it." He steps back, and Elena just realizes how close they were to each other; she hadn't even _felt _him getting nearer. She blushes and lowers her head, willing her heart to stop beating so hard already.

"I'll…I'll think about it," she murmurs before she can help herself.

Damon steps back even further now, his posture more relaxed, and Elena realizes that he's _relieved_. "Good," he says, retreating to his car. He looks at her before he climbs into his Chevy though, his blue eyes intense and meaningful. "You have until three this afternoon to answer me. And if you don't, well, I'm going either way. I fucking need a timeout myself."

Elena allows herself to smile, and she even waves at him before he leaves. Now that the full meaning of Damon's proposition sinks in, she realizes that, if she does go with him, it'll be just him and her _only_ and with what happened last week…Elena's cheeks heat up.

She's going to have to run this through Stefan.

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"He said _what_?"

Elena barely represses a flinch at Stefan's tone, his disbelieving expression and wide eyes reminiscent of the way she'd reacted when Damon had made her the offer.

She stands her ground though. "He asked me to take a timeout; go with him somewhere," she pauses, wondering if there's a gentle way she can phrase what she wants to say next. She doesn't think so. "And I'm seriously considering it, Stefan."

"But why, Elena? Is it because of me? Is it something I did?" His arms are gesturing madly, punctuating his every word. If the situation wasn't so serious, Elena thinks she'd have laughed.

Instead, she lets her eyes soften with love, her hands coming up to still Stefan's arms. "Of course it's not you," she says soothingly. "We're doing great. It's just that…everything's just getting to me what with all this Katherine and Elijah and Klaus and doppelganger crap. I just need to blow some steam and forget about all of this – and I think Damon's giving me that opportunity."

Stefan's green eyes are glazed with a strange pain as he looks at her. "But Damon...he's…Damon's in love with you," he replies weakly.

She frowns. "I thought we were over this, Stefan." She feels herself grow cold. After all they'd gone through, he _still _didn't trust her?

Just as she begins to move back, his hands come up to cup her face. "No, wait Elena, listen we _are _over this," he begins earnestly, his eyes roaming over her face. With a jolt, Elena realizes uneasily that her heart's _not _beating any faster, and there's no blood rushing to heat up her face. She tells herself it's because she's angry with Stefan; after all, there's no other possibility.

He exhales slowly, his hands loosening their hold on her arms a fraction. "I don't want you to leave," he whispers, resting his head on her shoulder. "Please."

Feeling incredibly awkward, Elena slowly pulls away, gently extricating herself from Stefan. "I didn't say I was leaving, Stefan. I just said I was thinking about it." She leans over to kiss him, and his lips are there, ready to meet hers, but on second thought she switches and aims for his cheek instead. She doesn't know why.

She's still not sure about what she's going to say to Damon – everything's so _confusing_. She hopes she'll get her answer soon enough.

Her eyes wander to her watch; twelve thirty.

She doesn't have much more time left.

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Elena's standing in front of her mirror, swiping a vivid shade of red onto her lips. She stares at herself, tracing the contours of her face; she's still thinking about Damon's offer, and she's still without an answer.

She glances at her clock: one forty-five.

Frustrated, her eyes wander back to the mirror; why is she so unsure of herself – torn between two answers?

Between two people?

Elena knows that this choice is an indirect reflection of the two brothers. If she chooses to stay, not only does she let the weight of being the doppelganger settle once again on her shoulders (the weight had somehow faded since Damon's proposition) but she also chooses Stefan. If she chooses to leave, she chooses to let go and let herself be free of any inhibitions – but she also chooses _Damon_.

It's not the real-thing, but in Elena's mind it's close because she's actually torn.

Slowly, she lets her eyes close, and remembers a conversation with her mom, way back when she was a spoiled fifteen year old brat, whose main concerns lay in fashion and friends and parties.

She'd been torn – much like this time – and had asked her mother's advice on the issue.

"_Elena, choose the thing you're more comfortable with; the one where you feel the happiest and more like __**you**_."

With who is she more _Elena_?

Slowly, her mind drifts to Stefan – sweet, selfless Stefan. He's always there for, always willing to protect her and showers her with love and adoration. He helped her get over her grief when her parent's died. He's her guardian, her savior…

Her mind rounds immediately on Damon.

He's…complicated. But he _gets _her – he gets her like nobody else does. He reads her like an open book; he knows when she's happy, when she's grumpy, and he adjusts accordingly. He comforts her, he's there for her, but in a different way than Stefan.

Slowly, the memory of their conversation flashes through her mind.

He had told her the most beautiful things she'd ever heard. He'd said she could _take it _because she's _Elena_. He'd dried her purple tears and kissed them away while holding her and telling her that he _understood. _He'd left with a brush of his lips against hers, telling her that _nothing's _worth her tears and that she's _worth it _because she's _Elena_.

Elena opens her eyes with a jolt. Her breathing's shallow, and she puts a hand over her heart to steady its erratic breathing. Slowly, her red lips curve into a smile.

She has her answer.

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"Damon, wait!" She cries out, and he pauses, bag still slung lazily over his shoulder. She stumbles a bit before she reaches him, breathing hard.

"Your time's up, Elena," he says, and his voice is strained at the edges. "What's your answer."

Elena slides her eyes over his face, stopping as she took in the blue of his eyes. God, they were beautiful. There's a smile on her face as she looks at him. "I'm going with you, Damon," she replies. "Wherever you want to go; I fucking need the timeout too."

Damon's blinking at her, like he can't believe what she's saying. But slowly, his eyes are lighting up and they're sparkling like the sea. His mouth splits into a blinding smile as he lets his bag fall to the floor and gathers her in his arms. "Really? You're coming with me?"

She laughs, arms going around his neck. "Yes, yes I am," she replies, her red lips smiling brightly up at him, heart beating hard and fast against her chest as he trails up his hands along the planes of her face.

Suddenly he's tilting her chin so that she's staring straight into those startling blue eyes and suddenly it's getting harder to breathe. "Good," he says softly, still smiling. "Fucking _fantastic_."

And Damon kisses her red mouth; softly, slowly, _genuinely_, and Elena feels herself smiling and impossibly happy.

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**Author's Note: **Here's for part two of _Purple Teardrops_ – hope you've liked it. The title was a reference to Elena's lips this time (I'm sure everyone caught that…but just in case :D). Part three will have the road trip, and I'm still not sure about part four – if there's one.

Before anyone starts to say that Elena's a bitch here, kissing Damon. I'd like to say that I've left the state of her relationship pretty ambiguous here, first of all, and that, in this case, Damon kissed her. Some people, when they are overwhelmingly happy, tend to respond by kissing and well, Elena here basically acknowledges her growing feelings for Damon as opposed to the fading ones for Stefan. So yeah :D

Love to hear your thoughts about this second chapter. I'm pretty nervous about it, since I've never expanded on anything, so please drop in a review! And don't **favorite **without doing that, please!

Much love!

P.S. – I'm still in the process of answering the first batch of emails…but don't worry, I promise I'll get to all of you!


	3. Blue Shaded Eyes

**~Chapter 3~**

**Blue-shaded Eyes**

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Elena stares at the road unfurling before her, a small, amused smile tugging at her lips as she thinks of the circumstances that brought her here, in Damon's blue Chevy once again. Barely a minute after she told him that she was going with him, he'd sped her to her house, telling her to pack everything she needed. As it was, she'd already packed, but she went inside to check anyway, and had ended up taking her small makeup purse, just in case Damon took her somewhere fancy.

And now Elena's sitting in his car, watching the scenery fly past her with a wide smile. She was out of Mystic Falls, away from the crazy pressure she's been under for what feels like _forever_, and finally, she's feeling herself relax, letting Damon drive her to their destination…

A thought strikes her then, and Elena sits up, a frown on her face. "Damon," she begins, turning around to face him. "You never did tell me where we were going."

He's smiling lazily, one hand on the steering wheel, the other splayed casually on his armrest. With his sinful good looks, it makes for a pretty picture, and Elena feels her throat run dry, barely. "That is because I still don't know where we're going," he replies.

Elena purses her lips. "Could you, maybe, make up your mind? I know this is supposed to be a road trip and all, but contrary to popular belief, that doesn't mean we have to stay _on the road._"

He glances at her, and there's amusement flickering in his warm (how weird, she usually describes them as being icy, but the word doesn't seem fitting) blue eyes. "Feeling feisty today, are we?" he teases, and Elena rolls her eyes, smiling slightly when she hears the low rumble of his laughter. "Well, Ms. Gilbert, where would you like to go?"

Elena jerks slightly in surprise; clearly, that was _not _the answer she expected. She looks at him, all wide eyes and raised eyebrows, silently asking him if he's really serious. Damon answers with a look of his own, one that Elena has no trouble reading; of course, he's serious, and she should stop asking stupid questions already. How someone can be _that _wry without speaking, Elena doesn't know – she supposes it's an inherent Damon talent – but she stops and considers.

Where _would _she like to go?

"If I had the guts to just let loose and go crazy," Elena murmurs, surprised at how thoughtful and sincere she sounds. "I'd say we go somewhere like Paris or Milan – as far away from here as possible." She thinks she feels her throat tighten, and her voice break a little. "But I can't make myself throw everything out the window, so I'd say...somewhere like D.C. – or Atlanta. I wouldn't mind going to Atlanta again."

Suddenly, she finds that she can't bring herself to look at Damon, and so she stares out at the window, her heart thumping wildly in her chest as the silence stretches out, wondering what Damon's thinking.

After what feels like a lifetime or three, she hears him say, "What's stopping you from going crazy?"

She blinks. "What?"

His blue eyes are on her before she realizes that she's turned back around to face him. "You said that if you had the guts to go crazy, you'd tell me to go as far away from here as possible. We both know you have the guts, so what's _really _stopping you?"

"But see, I _don't _have the guts."

"You wouldn't have told me any of this if you didn't," Damon counters.

And as her stomach drops to her toes, Elena starts to think that maybe, just _maybe _he's right.

But that would mean that Damon knows her better than she knows herself, and she knows that she's not ready to contemplate that possibility…yet.

She knows she'll be brave enough to face it, admit it, _embrace _it even, one day, but she's taking baby steps here with her bravery, and she prefers to start with what seems like the easiest.

So she takes a deep breath, and makes herself look at Damon. "You said it yourself – I'm not the worst company in the world, and I'm probably not the best," Elena tells him. "Let's face it; I'd just stop you from having all the fun you'd want to have, and I'd end up ruining this whole trip. I don't want that."

And against everything she expects (but really, expect the unexpected should already be her motto with him) Damon rolls his eyes. "Look Elena, this is _me _we're talking about. With all my crazy standards, who could _possibly _qualify as being the best company in the world?" He wiggles her eyebrows at her for effect.

And again, against everything she expects, Elena feels herself smile uncontrollably, and she's laughing the full-blown, all-teeth, _genuine _laugh. Her heart's feeling pounds lighter, and it warms with gratefulness when she realizes that Damon's said this to make her _feel better_ – _her. _As her laughter fades, a soft smile graces her lips and she looks at Damon with new eyes.

He clears his throat and smirks at her. "Don't sell yourself short; you're better company than you think you are. You're more like the sixteen year old fun Elena than you think you are."

"You've never even met fun Elena," she replies, careful to not let the surprise that he knows that she often compares herself to how she was before her parents died, seep into her voice. She's never told anyone – not even Bonnie, or Caroline (or Stefan).

Damon's blue eyes glance at her for a split-second before they shift back onto the road. His expression is unreadable. "I've seen enough of you over the past months to know that she's there."

Elena's soft smile widens, and she feels a strange sweet kind of pain fill her heart – a mixture between gratitude and pleased surprise and a little something else she's not quite ready to admit – and it warms her from head to feet. "Thanks," she whispers, soft and low, but she knows he'll hear her anyway.

He does, and when he looks at her, there's a new twinkle that lights up his eyes – one that promises adventure, and new beginnings, and the kinds of stuff that she's only read about in books. "So?" he prompts. "Where to?"

Elena breathes deeply, and looks at the road with new eyes. "I've always dreamed of visiting Paris," she says and there's a wild kind of anticipation swelling up inside of her.

Damon smiles at her, and it's beautiful and blinding. "Paris it is," he replies, and the anticipation filling her up increases.

Elena thinks that this strange combination of excitement and fear and empowerment that's making her heart race a marathon, _this_ is what it feels like to finally let loose and dare to be wild.

And it feels wonderful.

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They're at the Atlanta Airport two and a half hours later, standing in line with all the other first-class people (Damon, of course, wouldn't settle for anything less than first-class, and as a result had to compel the agent so that he 'miraculously' found two free places), boarding tickets reading 'Paris, France' in bold, capitalized letters.

They don't have much with them, but Damon tells her not to worry, and for once, Elena listens. She does end up going to the bathroom before they check in their bags though, pulling out the blue eye-shadow from the makeup purse she'd brought with her.

If she's going to freaking _Paris_, she's got to look a _little _more presentable at least.

She's so used to sprinkling that deep, blue eye-shadow onto her lids that it takes her less than a minute to touch it all up before she's back by Damon's side.

He doesn't say anything at first, but later, when they're boarding the plane, he takes a good look at her, and they're an appreciative glow in his eyes. "Blue suits you," he says, and because a genuine compliment from Damon is so rare, Elena feels herself blush.

"Thanks," she says, and they don't speak again until they're sitting comfortably in their wide, leather first-class chairs, and Damon's sipping a glass of fresh champagne.

She's looking at their tickets when she notices something off. She frowns, blue eyelids dropping slightly. "Damon, our tickets are one-way."

"I know, I believe I'm the one who got them," he drawls.

There's a heavy pause. "How long will we be gone?"

"As long as it needs to take," he replies easily. He turns around suddenly, so that he's directly facing her. Before Elena knows what's happening, Damon's kissing her blue eyelids one at a time, first the right and then the left, slowly and softly. He takes her face in his hands, and his lips are curved into the most reassuring smile she's ever seen from him. "Stop worrying Elena, you're on _vacation_. This is supposed to be _our time_. We're not coming back until you're all patched up and ready to deal with all the crap you've left – however long it takes. I don't give a damn if its three days or a week or a _month_, but we're not coming back until you're ready. Deal?"

She feels herself smile again, and her hands reach up to encircle his. "How do you make things sound so good?" she murmurs and before she can help herself, her lips are brushing against Damon's.

"Years of practice," he murmurs against her mouth softly. "Do we have a deal?"

When they pull back, his lips are spotted with blue and dark pink (her bright red lipstick had long faded) and Elena laughs quietly, wiping away the traces with her fingers. She feels her heart stutter a bit when she remembers herself doing exactly the same thing – only Damon's lips were covered with her purple mascara and not blue eye-shadow and faded red lipstick.

"Yes, Damon, we have a deal," she replies, and Elena realizes that they really do. She's _not _going back home until she's sane enough to deal with all the crap and pressure again, and damn it, Damon's _right _(again) her problems are still going to be there, so it's a matter of how prepared she is to deal with them.

So she kicks back, and allows herself to relax and soak in the fact that she's with _Damon _and going to _Paris_ and that this may be the trip of a lifetime.

She takes Damon's hand when the plane starts to move.

And as it flies into the air, Elena can't help but smile when he squeezes back.

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**Author's Note: **So this was totally supposed to be the last chapter, but it ended up getting too long, and so I had to split the road trip (flight trip?) and the timeout itself into separate chapters :D. Next chapter will be the last I think, and will be focused solely on Damon and Elena's time in Paris. One reviewer said that it would be interesting to see everyone's reaction when these two get back to Mystic Falls, and while the idea is tempting, I'm running out of color-body themes XD. Maybe it will be a separate one-shot, done in one character's point of view (by character, I fully mean Caroline, because she's cool). But it could full well be the epilogue of this story. Your opinions on this will be much appreciated.

Hope you like this chapter, and please remember to review!

Much love!


	4. Burgundy Nails

**~ Chapter 4 ~**

**Burgundy Nails**

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**Day One**

Elena's in love with Paris.

She's been here for a whole of two hours maybe, but as soon as she steps out of the airport, glancing around in awe at the myriad of shining lights around her, she just _knows_.

Coming here's the best decision she's ever made.

Damon seems to agree, and he slings his arm over Elena's shoulder with a wink and a smile, and she smiles back because she knows that it's these silent gestures that show just how much Damon cares.

She doesn't miss the way his eyes light up when she puts her own arm around his waist – they meld right into the décor of brilliant colors here, she thinks dazedly – and watches him hail a cab.

When the taxi driver drops them off in _place Vendome, _Elena looks around for the hotel and her jaw just positively _drops _to the ground. Damon apparently wants to book a suite at the _Ritz_.

"You _can't _be serious," she says finally, looking at him with wide brown eyes.

Damon shrugs but there's a betraying sparkle in his eyes. "Well, you should know me better than to think I'd settle for anything less than _spectacular_," he says before he turns around to request two separate bedrooms in the suite.

"_Une suite avec deux chambres à part s'il vous plait." _

She's in _absolute _awe at how perfect his French is, and how fluently and decidedly _French _he sounds. His smooth and confident drawl goes to a whole new other level in another language.

"I'm really envying your language skills right now," she tells him (after having made a huge fuss about how ridiculously _gigantic _their suite is. She shouldn't complain, she supposes, since they have two separate bedrooms, but does it _really _have to have a bar and _two _living rooms?).

He swings his bag carelessly over one of the couch, glancing at her amusedly. His grin is blinding. "I'll teach you as we go along," he tells her. "Take it as a bonus."

She rolls her eyes, but her lips twitch, betraying, upwards. "How considerate of you," she replies.

"I try my best." He grabs his jacket and pulls it on, motioning for her to do the same. "Come on, we're going out."

She doesn't bother asking him where because she's got the strange feeling he won't tell her.

Damon takes her to the boulevard _Haussmann _and walks her all the way to the famous _Galleries Lafayette_. She screeches like a teenage girl, unable to help herself, before she feels her cheeks burn and ducks her head.

But when she glances at him, Damon's looking at her with a soft glow in his ridiculously blue, blue eyes – like it's okay for her to act like a teenage girl – and Elena realizes that it really _is _because that's what she _is _– a teenage girl.

"Pick something pretty," Damon tells her when they walk in. "We'll be going out a lot." Just as she opens her mouth to protest, he holds up his hands. "Yes, I'm covering all of the expenses and _no, _you have no say in this, and _yes _you will pick out nice clothes to wear or I'll buy them for you myself." His mouth curves slyly, and he does that eye-thing she hates (but thrills her all the way to her tiptoes). "And we both know you don't want that."

"Fine," she huffs, folding her arms.

"Oh don't go all pouty on me, Elena," Damon says, and there's excitement in his every word. "We're on _vacation_, and you're a teenager. Shopping is supposed to be _fun_."

And Elena's heart strings twinge just a little bit, because Damon is _right_. She'll worry about the price of all of this when she gets home, but right now she _is _a teenager, in _Paris_ and going _shopping._

So she lets loose, and realizes that really, things are much more enjoyable when you let yourself _enjoy _it.

Funny, how that had escaped her mind these past few weeks.

**Day Two: **

The next day, Damon takes her to the _Louvre _at nine o'clock sharp, and Elena spends a decent half an hour outside simply _admiring _the exterior of the palace. She looks at the statues of the figures standing solemnly above with awe, and her hands come up to trace the smooth strokes of the French architecture, drawing the 'N' that stands for Napoleon over and over again.

Elena doesn't want to miss a single detail of this fabulous exterior, and she goes around the palace stopping at random intervals to let the sheer beauty of the palace hit her.

She makes sure to drag Damon with her all the time.

He doesn't complain – at least, not at first – but after a while, he sighs and laces his fingers with hers, and drags her to the small pyramid at the center of the palace square. "I know the outside's pretty and all," he drawls when she cries out in protest. "But don't forget we're here to see the _museum _as well, and all of that's inside."

Elena rolls her eyes, but she doesn't take her hand away from his as they wait in the moderately long line.

It doesn't take long for them to get inside and then get their tickets, and Elena figures it's just a slow day until she sees the mile long line of people entering and exiting the museum. Then she looks at Damon and realizes that he'd anticipated the number of people, and that's why they'd come here so early. "How thoughtful of you," she teases when she explains her reasoning to him and this time, it's _Damon's _turn to roll his eyes at her.

"Come on," he says. "Let's go see the paintings. The Italians are made of serious stuff."

"You say that because you're one of them."

He shrugs. "That too," he retorts. "But seriously, they're great, and I'm not only talking about Mona Lisa." He sounds so excited that Elena begins to laugh quietly, but she follows him, and lets him show her the paintings and the painters, and tell her about those that were alive when he was alive.

Turns out, the Italian paintings _are _awesome – they'd impressed her far more than any of the French or British ones – but Damon was right about the Mona Lisa. It wasn't bigger than a decent sized framed picture, and with all the security and the lines and the "_non, vous ne pouvez pas approcher mademoiselle," _is just ridiculous.

They give up getting a good view of the _Joconde _as she's called here in France after a while. Damon tells her there's some good Egyptian stuff here so they make their way to that part of the museum, and it's a trip and a half just to _get there_. Elena still can't get over how huge everything is inside here. There are so many stairwells and passages and hallways and wings it makes her head spin.

After passing an impressive looking sphinx, they enter a room that screams back Egypt. They wander around aimlessly for a little while, until Elena's gaze zeroes on a particular exposed piece.

"This _really _freaks me out," Elena murmurs to Damon. They're standing and looking at the mummy lying peacefully inside the glass walls.

Elena looks at the perfectly formed fingers, and shivers. "That was a person," she whispers.

"Well, since it's a _mummy_…"

Irritated, Elena hits Damon's arm lightly. "Be respectful." Her eyes look at the mummy again and she feels horribly fascinated by this human being all tied up in bandages. She wonders what it'd look like if she untied everything, and this time feels the shiver all the way down to her toes.

"Let's go," she tells Damon. "I want to see the other sphinx."

In the end, they finish the Egyptian section, and don't even look at a fourth of the Greek one before they decide to leave. The _Louvre _is just too big, and though Elena would've liked to see more, her feet are killing her and they'd already gotten lost twice.

"Coffee?" Damon asks as they exit into the metropolitan area. "I know a café on the boulevard _Capucines _that is fantastic."

"Coffee sounds really great," Elena says. "And I'd like to try those little pastries everyone seems to have here. You know those that look like…little hamburgers or something."

"_Les macarons?_" Damon asks, and Elena's struck again at how French he sounds. "Sure, that café has them." He suddenly starts to chuckle. "Little hamburgers…"

"Well at least, you know what I'm talking about!" she insists. "It's a perfectly reasonable description."

Damon snorts. "If it keeps you happy, _ma cherie_." And he lifts his left hand up to hail a cab.

Elena smiles at that, and looks at their entwined hands.

They hadn't let go of each other since Damon had dragged in to the _Louvre_.

She tries not to let that pleasure light up her eyes, but if the way the cab driver winked at her is of any indication, she's failed miserably.

She can't bring herself to care.

**Day Three, Four, Five**

Being in Paris feels like a dream – the kind Elena never wants to wake up from.

Damon's been nothing but courteous to her over the past few days, treating her to all the most delicious places around (he's been spoiling her, really and truly, but she's not going to go admitting _that_). He's taken her to some beautiful places too – they went up the Eiffel Tower, danced around the _Cartier Latin_ and Elena even got to admire the beautiful _Notre Dame de Paris_.

Every night is a surprise and, so far, Damon's taken her to a restaurant, the Opera, and the movies. Since her French was horrible on good days, Damon spent the entire night when they were at the opera and at the movies translating warmly and sensually in her ear.

Elena still can't recall yesterday night without blushing – they had been watching some kind of movie, and then Damon had started trailing his hand up and down her thigh, his voice descending to an octave that made her insides turn to liquid and then – she'd already been passed paying attention to whatever was happening on screen at this point – Damon had taken her lobe between his teeth and her mind had become unnervingly blank.

Did he stop? No, being Damon, he'd made sure to _drag _his mouth from her ear and to her cheek, then slowly to her lips.

But he'd never kissed her. Just as his lips had reached her tingling ones, he'd pulled back, smirking at her dilated brown eyes.

Elena doesn't think she's ever wanted to kiss and kill the same person as much as she'd wanted to do both to Damon at that moment.

She thinks it's unhealthy to want to do such radical things to the same person, but then it's Damon, and she realizes that her feelings just can't be trusted when she's around him.

She knows why, and the reason multiplies both urges by _a million_.

**Day Six**

Today, if Elena judges by the way Damon's eyes sparkle when he sees her at breakfast on her sixth day; today is going to be her best day in Paris _yet_.

"So what's the plan?" she asks as she snatches a piece of toast. There's no butter on her plate and she frowns and takes Damon's.

"We're going to go to – hey that's _my _butter!"

"Oh come on! You're _dead;_ I actually need it to survive!"

Damon shakes his head. "That's not a nice way of putting it."

"Oh please." Elena rolls her eyes. "It's not like it bothers you."

"Touché, but you're still not getting butter." He smirks, and he does that eye-thing – Elena calls it 'flirting' now, since it fits – that should _really _not get her heart pounding like it is now.

He looks entirely too victorious, and Elena sighs and rolls her eyes again, before she reaches across the table, and kisses Damon straight on the lips.

When she pulls back, he looks strangely dazed – his eyes are all glazed and he's blinking profusely – and Elena smiles with satisfaction. "Can I have some butter now?" she asks, all sweet.

"Huh? Oh yeah, yeah sure," he still sounds dazed, and Elena's smile widens as she takes the butter, and spreads it on her toast.

"So where are we going?" she asks again, eating her toast, and resists the urge to moan at how good the butter tastes.

"We're going to the _Champs-Elysees_ and then tomorrow night I'm taking you out somewhere nice." Damon touches his lips once or twice, before he looks at her. "You _kissed _me."

Elena nods, amused. "Yes, I did."

"You kissed me," Damon repeats, looking at her as she happily eats her toast. Comprehension suddenly dawns on his beautiful face, and his eyes clear. "You did it so you could get to my butter! You messed with my mind!"

"That I did too," Elena replies, still happy. She stands up, and winks. "See you in twenty minutes – I have to get ready."

"You dirty little minx," she hears Damon murmur as she exits the breakfast room, and resists the urge to laugh.

Oh yes, today is going to be a _good _day, indeed.

**Later on**

Damon's walking her down the _Champs-Elysees _and Elena's tempted to say that it's the prettiest place she's seen in Paris.

They stop at one of the stands for hot wine – _un mélange de miel et de chaleur, _Damon tells her – and Elena's kind of surprised when Damon hands her a cup too, until she remembers that the legal drinking age in France is _eighteen_ and that she's a year above the age limit here.

She takes a sip of the wine, and smiles.

Yes, she _loves _Paris.

She and Damon walk further down until they reach the streets full of shops. There's a _Sephora _and a _H&M _and when Elena sees a huge building the size of a hotel, her jaw positively drops because the whole building is only full of _Louis Vuitton_.

Damon offers her to go inside but she refuses; she's already spent too much of his money and besides, she already has the perfect clutch to go with the dress she's wearing to wherever he's taking her tonight. She doesn't need anything else.

They stop to eat lunch at _Paul_, and the sandwiches are so good there they kind of put McDonalds to shame – almost.

"Come on," Damon tells her. "I saved the best part for last."

They cross another number of streets, until they come up to the famously giant _Arc de Triomphe. _Damon comes up to the front of line.

"_Deux tickets s'il vous plait," _he tells the security guard easily.

"_Monsieur, je suis désoler, mais il va falloir faire la queue, comme tout le monde. " _The guard sounds pissed that Damon cut through the whole line, and Elena can't really blame him. She tightens her grip on Damon's arm.

Suddenly, his eyes are on the guard's, all piercing and persuasive. _"Vous aller nous laissez passer. Nous somme des personnes de famille réputée à travers la France, et nous avons le droit de réclamer de passer en priorité. "_

Damon steps back slightly from his little compulsion thing, and then the guard blinks once and suddenly he's all smiles and happiness and greets Damon with a fondness and familiarity that wasn't there before.

Elena smiles disbelievingly when they pass. "What did you tell him?" she asks Damon.

He shrugs and his mouth curves up slyly. "I may or may not have said that we're from influential families here."

Elena laughs. She knows she should reprimand him and all, but she's too happy to be angry with Damon at the moment. Responsibility can wait until she gets back home.

_Home. _Elena hasn't thought of Mystic Falls in a long time, and as the name washes over her, she feels herself break into a cold sweat and her heart starts to pound.

No, she definitely doesn't miss _home _right now. Not yet – she's not ready.

Then all thoughts of home escape her mind when Damon takes her hand. "Close your eyes," he whispers into her ear. "And trust me."

She smiles and does as she's told, and lets Damon guide her to wherever he wants them to go.

After ten minutes of climbing up stairs, Elena's hit with such a blast of cold wind it takes her breath away. She feels Damon's warm presence just behind her, and whatever air she had left inside of her promptly leaves her when she feels his mouth next to her ear. "You can open them now."

Elena opens her eyes, and she's suddenly struck with a beautiful view of Paris by night. It's only six, but it's dark already, and as far and wide as she can see there are only lights on lights on _brilliant _lights.

Damon's right behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist and his chin resting upon her shoulder comfortably. When he starts pointing out various places to her, Elena feels herself lean in to him she's in awe at everything he tells her. Her eyes are sparkling as she takes in the amazing view.

"Everything looks so beautiful," she tells Damon.

His eyes are on her, and there's a slight smile on his lips. "Yeah," he answers back a beat or two later. "Everything's beautiful."

Everything really is, and Elena's so caught up in the sheer beauty of everything that when Damon spins her back around to face him, she's on her tiptoes and her arms are on his neck just as his hands cup her face and he leans in for the kiss.

It's a magical kiss, and Elena feels fireworks bursting and expanding within her chest.

**Day Seven**

She's spent most of this day freaking out.

Damon said he was taking her out somewhere special tonight, and so she's gotten the prettiest dress she bought here in Paris. It's a navy blue number that drapes off her right shoulder and leaves it bare, cinches at her waist and finishes off at mid-thigh.

There's red on her lips and on her heels, smoky black on her eyelids and on her clutch, and her nails are painted burgundy to offset the rest of her outfit nicely.

"_Vous etes magnifique!" _The maid, Marie, tells when she comes in her room. Elena knows enough French to know that she told her that she was amazing, and she smiles and tips her head.

"_Merci beaucoup."_

Marie nods, and there's a mischievous glint in her eye. "Il vous attend en bas."

Elena feels herself blush, nods and smiles, and walks out the door. Damon's waiting for her downstairs already? Her heart starts to race and she tries to breathe through her nose to calm herself.

Why is she so nervous?

She can't begin to explain to herself why – her and Damon had fooled around a lot during this vacation, but tonight, Elena can't help but feel that there's a sense of…purpose, of seriousness tonight.

She doesn't know how to deal with it.

When she finally squares her shoulders and walks downstairs, Damon is indeed waiting for her. She sees his eyes widen when he sees her, and sees him swallow thickly. Her shoulders relax imperceptibly and she feels the beginnings of a smile on her face – he finds her attractive. In Elena's book, she's passed the test.

"_Bonsoir, mademoiselle," _Damon whispers languidly into her ear as he extends his arm to her.

Elena takes it easily. _"Bonsoir a vous, monsieur," _she murmurs back, heart thrumming in her chest. "_Ou allons-nous?"_

"We're going to a small little restaurant on the _Champs-Elysees_," he tells her. "It's one of my favorites."

He helps her into the cab and gives him directions, and Elena takes the opportunity to really look at him. Damon's in a fitting black tuxedo, and the whiteness of the shirt underneath makes for a nice physical contrast. It lights up his eyes. The shirt is crisp, and Elena can see the faint outlines of the muscles hugs and feels herself blush.

Damon's always attractive, but tonight, he's especially so.

She wonders where that's going to lead them to.

**Later On**

The restaurant has a nice, quaint little feeling to it. The music is nice, and the food is really good, and Elena finds that she's enjoying her time out with Damon a lot. Smiling comes easily with him, she realizes, and her heart warms with the notion that he tries to make her smile because he _cares. _

Halfway through the main course, Damon stands up and extends his hand. "Want to dance?" he offers, and Elena feels a sweet kind of pain run through her when she looks into his eyes. He's smiling, but there's a sort of apprehensiveness in his gestures – like he's afraid he'll be turned down – that makes her put her hand in his firmly, reassuringly. She can never say no to him – not now, not ever – and though it had bothered her before, right now, she wants to make the knowledge known.

Damon's smile widens slightly when she takes his hand and he leads her to the dance floor. There are two or three other couples dancing but Elena barely sees them, her eyes drowning into the warm waters of Damon's. His free hand slides to her waist as hers glides to his shoulder. Their hands intertwine and then, they start to move.

The beat is slow, sensual, and Elena lets Damon transport her; guide her, like he did at the Miss Mystic Falls pageant. Her heart's beating just as fast and her eyes are on Damon but this time, the feelings are the same.

Where Damon was just beginning to feel the first stirrings of love the last time, Elena was just seeing the human under the vampire; the better version of the man that was already standing.

But this time, the only thing Damon sees is Elena, and the only thing Elena sees is Damon, and between that there's only the steady, confident thrum of love.

She's _in love _with Damon, Elena realizes, and the hand on the shoulder tightens with the thought. She sighs and lets her head drop on his shoulder at the same time that both of his hands come down to wrap around her waist. He swings her to the beat and there are no words said, but the decision is made and there's no turning back.

Damon's mouth skirts her ear and suddenly, she hears him whispering, "_Je t'aime, je t'aime à la folie, je t'aime tellement que ça me fait mal, mais c'est un mal qui me rend fou et qui me fait du bien, et je veux que ça ne s'arrête jamais. Elena, je t'aime.__ "_

Elena's heart is beating loud and fast. She wonders what Damon has told her, but her eyes are prickling with tears – he _loves _her. He's said it so much she's lost count.

But _Damon loves_ her.

And Elena abandons all inhibitions, and lets her burgundy painted nails scrape along his back as she wraps her arms tightly around his neck. Damon presses her closer to him and they're kissing again.

And this time, as her burgundy nails rake across his neck, they _mean _it. It's not fooling around, it's _love _and _passion _and _fear _and _excitement _and _Damon _and _Elena_.

And Elena smiles into the kiss because it's utterly and amazingly beautiful.

**Day Fourteen**

Paris iss the best decision that she's ever made.

Unfortunately it's a decision that wasn't meant to last.

Elena's sad to leave yes, but a part of her is looking forward to getting back to Mystic Falls. She's missed her friends and Jenna and Jeremy and she can't wait to get back to them.

"Ready?" Damon asks her as he comes to get her from the salon. She steps towards him just as he comes forward and they greet each other with a kiss. He looks at her hard and smiles. "I like your new style," he tells her. "Very sexy."

Elena rolls her eyes, but she's smiling. She's been smiling more often her than she's had in a long while. "Of course you would," she replies.

"That's kind of the point, I hope," he says as he wraps an arm around her waist. "You've got to be sexy for your boyfriend."

"That's why I went for this and not for that thing the guy wanted at first."

Damon seems to recall the suggestion and winces, dropping a kiss to her temple. "I knew there was a reason I picked you."

"Gee thanks." They're walking together towards the cab, ready, finally, to get back to the town they belong in.

Just as they step in to go to the airport, Damon looks at Elena, and looks at her intensely, like he's trying to commit every single of her features to memory. Finally he smiles.

"You're ready for home."

* * *

**Author's Note: **This normally, should conclude the series, but many of you seemed to like the idea of Caroline narrating the epilogue, so yes, there's going to be a fifth part to this :D

This chapter was actually a blast to write, since there's so much French in it. French is actually my first language (English is my second) so yes, this was a real kick.

Feel free to PM me if you want exact translations of the French I put in there. Normally, there's nothing a good translator can't give you, but if you feel like the translation's missing something, just hit me up and I'll gladly translate for you the whole French parts. :D Also, some readers suggested nails as a theme – good catch on that one, guys!

Anybody wonder what Elena did at the salon? Never fear, I'll make sure Caroline notices first thing next chapter XD Just promise you won't kill me for it?

Thoughts and reviews are very welcome! Much love!


	5. Chocolate Locks

**~ Chapter 5 ~**

**Chocolate Locks**

**

* * *

**

One hundred thirty-five, one hundred thirty-six, one hundred thirty-seven…

Pause, inhale, bite lip, resume.

One hundred thirty-eight, one hundred thirty-nine, one hundred forty…

It's official, she's going crazy.

Caroline groans loudly before collapsing on the sofa. She knows she's a crazy neurotic freak but _God_, counting her steps is taking it a bit too far even for her.

She needs a fucking drink.

She stands up and doesn't hesitate a second to help herself to Damon's wide selection of alcohol. Her eyes are set on the expensive bottle of vodka, and she pours herself a healthy shot.

Caroline downs it in a millisecond and pours herself another one. She's not scared of Damon because God knows; she's entitled to a drink or ten after coming to the boarding house for the past fourteen days to check up on everything and making sure that nothing was out of place – at Damon's request of course.

The _make sure Stefan is alright too_ wasn't said, but Caroline isn't stupid. She knows the only reason Damon had asked her to come check out boarding house in the first place was to make sure Stefan was doing okay.

But Caroline knows how to feel gracious (and she's got great self-preservation instincts as well, but that's irrelevant) and so she doesn't say anything to Damon about it.

But _God _he and Elena had really driven her insane today, she thinks as she downs another healthy shot of vodka. They'd called her yesterday night to tell her they'd be back in town at ten o'clock sharp the next morning (she knows she shouldn't be gloating as much as she is, but they'd told _her _that they were coming back – and only her – they'd _trusted _her to keep it a secret, and she thinks that all the pride she's feeling is really self-entitled) but right now, it's almost eleven, and she's just about ready to burst with anxiety.

She sighs, glancing downwards, and Caroline eyes the floor warily, silently daring it to come and make her go pace up and down frantically. Her mouth thins.

_The hell I'll move._

A battle of the wills, a silent defiance – Caroline's really getting into this mind game thing until she realizes she's daring the Goddamn _floor_, and as far as she knows, floors don't have _minds_.

Its times like these that she knows she's ready for a tumbler of Damon's best Bourbon.

_Okay it's official; I'm a crazy lunatic psychotic freaky vampire Barbie. Damon's right, _Caroline pauses in her mental derision of her being, and helps herself to more Bourbon. She just _knows _she's in need of copious amounts of alcohol if she's starting to give _Damon right_.

The thought alone makes her cringe and Caroline eyes the other tumbler appreciatively. Drinking from two cups at once would certainly speed up the process of getting as much alcohol in her system as humanely – vampirely, she means, she's totally not a human anymore – possible.

Just as she makes up her mind to use the second tumbler too, her eyes twitch as she picks up the noise of a door clicking.

Caroline stiffens; she's been hearing so many car motors coming up this way that she'd unconsciously tuned them out, tired of freaking herself out over nothing. But now…now it looked it like it was them.

Suddenly feeling very nervous, she downs the shot of Bourbon as quickly as she can (liquid courage and all, she totally believes that by the way), before wiping her hands on her jeans and standing up.

Caroline's breathing stills when she turns around, and waits for Damon and Elena to come into the habitable room (she hasn't called living rooms, living rooms since she's become a vampire).

"You have three seconds to get your ass together, Vampire Barbie and get the house as good as new. I have a pencil in my hands; you've been warned."

Caroline rolls her eyes – so typically Damon, she can't help but think – but her mouth curves into an excited smile anyways. "You're antiquated house is as good as it'll ever be," she replied. "So you may as well just come in now. May I suggest you sell it and get a modern one?"

A millisecond later, Damon's walking into the habitable room, a smirk curving at his mouth. "Vampire Barbie has real fangs now, does she?"

Caroline huffs and crosses her arms, but she knows she can't really be all that mad at him. Considering everything…she did kind of miss Damon.

But that might just be the good gallon of alcohol in her system talking.

"Hey," she says. "So how was Paris?"

"Oh terrible, I absolutely hated it."

Caroline's eyes snap towards the left, widening dramatically as she catches a glimpse of Elena. She's grinning, her eyes are sparkling, and her arms are stretched out.

Caroline's feeling like her face might just snap in two as she rushes to hug her friend. _"Elena!" _she cries out. Her arms are wrapped around Elena tightly, and she feels herself laugh when she hears her gasp, "Caroline – you're choking me!"

Caroline pulls back with a smile that takes approximately a millisecond to fade as she stares at Elena. She feels her jaw drop and her eyebrows rise so high she wouldn't be surprised if they go all the way to her hairline. "Oh my God!" she exclaims. "Elena, you cut your hair!"

Elena blinks like she's just realized what Caroline was saying, and lets her eyes slide over her hair. She shrugs. "Yeah, I cut it just before coming," she replies, touching it. "How do you like it?"

_How do I like it?_

Caroline just stares, thinking of the glorious brown mane that hung all the way down to the small of Elena's back, now barely skims along her shoulders. It's weird and bizarre (which, by the way, don't mean the same thing _at all_) and…

"I totally love it! It's gorgeous!" Caroline combs her fingers through it, eyes glittering. "Yeah, it totally gives you this new cool vibe. It's…different."

_You're different._

It's just a passing thought, a simple nonessential observation, but Caroline realizes that it's _true. _This Elena – with the sparkle in her eye, the dazzling smile, the brand new daredevil haircut – isn't the Elena that had left for Paris two weeks ago.

This Elena…this Elena is the Elena she knew since she was two.

"Oh my God," Caroline whispers, and she thinks she's feeling tears building behind her eyes. "You're back. Welcome back, Elena," and she gathers her into her arms.

She doesn't care if Elena thinks that she's a crazy, neurotic freak (which she is, denial is never good) but with the way her hands tighten at the back of her jacket, Caroline thinks that Elena understood what she meant.

She's herself again. She'd lost herself, and somehow, some way, she found herself again.

Caroline catches Damon looking at them with a soft, appreciative glow in his warm blue eyes, with a subtle hint of…love? Frankly, she doesn't understand it (though she has a sneaking suspicion. Guessing and romance – preferably put together – are things she's always been good at after all) but Caroline knows that Damon had something to do with Elena's change.

So she smiles at him and mouths a quick little 'thank you', before she pauses, considers, and whispers – really low and really fast so that Elena doesn't catch it (thank God for vampire abilities) – "I will hunt you down if you tell anyone I thanked you," and smiles when Damon winks back.

Caroline ends up spending the rest afternoon with Damon and Elena, asking them about Paris and how the timeout was, and did Paris really have the best fashion stores? She bickers with Damon, but he agrees to share a bottle of Scotch with her and that doesn't make him so bad, and she laughs with Elena. But she mostly keeps to herself, and observes them with bright, knowing eyes.

She isn't surprised when Damon dips to press a kiss on Elena's mouth, in fact, she's more surprised with the way Elena closes her eyes and smiles into the kiss – like she's never been happier – and Caroline realizes that Damon may just have a lot more to do with Elena finding herself again than she first gave him credit for.

She leaves at around seven, hugs Elena goodbye and awes over the hair again. It's a style that really suits Elena, and something that the pre-my-parent's-died Elena would have totally gone for. Caroline jokes that she's made differentiating her and Katherine a hell of a lot easier and Elena rolls her eyes. "Gee, thanks Car," she says wryly, smiling and shaking her head.

They've agreed that they'll let everyone know they're back the next day, and Caroline promises she'll act like she never knew, but Damon lifts his eyes to the sky in annoyance. "Why bother?" he asks. "Let them all know we told you before anyone else – make them think we like you even more. Besides, with your fantastic acting skills, they'll all know anyways."

Caroline frowns, but she feels her heart warm just a little, because Damon's actually helping her out more than he should, and she knows when to feel grateful. She promises to clink quite a few glasses with him tomorrow (to be honest, she's really curious to see just how much alcohol she can get away with before she becomes a slobbering mess) before she makes her way to her car.

She turns back one last time, though, looks at them, and smiles. "You're good to each other," she says with her usual Caroline-patented finesse and bluntness and steps inside her car.

Caroline's known for making thoughtless statements – God knows, she's made enough of them to last her a lifetime – but her intuition is never wrong, and on a relative scale, she thinks that statement is probably one of the best she's ever made.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Not one of my strongest chapters I'm afraid, but it (successfully?) concludes the _Purple Teardrops _series! I had a blast writing Caroline, she's such a fun character to write that I think I might just use her again :D

I'd like to apologize for taking so long, but my last semester of high school is kicking my butt, and I've haven't had proper access to the Internet in forever (this is an interesting quirk of mine; I cannot work on a story if I don't have Internet. I do not know why).

I've also just watched the "House Guest" episode, and I'd like to cry out a **HELL YES** to Damon, for totally burning Katherine – and in style! Aah, I love you Damon – best scene in the entire freaking episode (yes, yes, I truly believe that :D).

I have a _ton _of reviews, PMs and such to get to, and I promise I'll answer them all to the best of my ability. It might take me a month and may just kill me, but I promise I'll answer every single one of them.

So to conclude this ridiculously long Author's Note, I hope you've enjoyed the ride – I certainly did. It was fun experimenting with multi-chaptered stories. And I look forward to reading lovely reviews from you all. Much love!


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